


Nerves of Steel

by unadulteratedstorycollector



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can’t understand how everyone can like his so much. Maybe you should just talk to him and find out…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nerves of Steel

You look across at Hermione and frown. Ok, so you were supposed to be supporting inter-house unity. Ok, so you didn’t have an ACTUAL problem with any students. Ok, so it was nice that everyone was helping each other out. But did it really have to be Draco Malfoy? You glare across the table as Hermione bends her head to look at something Malfoy has written, smiling at him slightly and nodding. Nodding! Malfoy grins at her and leans back, sliding a book towards him. You feel the indignation bubble in your chest, bitter and painful. You scoff and Hermione looks towards you, her eyes full of worry.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Hermione whispers, her eyes looking around the library. Malfoy glances up from his book, a curious look flashing across his sharp features before giving you a smirk. You scowl and look at Hermione.

“I’m fine,” you snap, grabbing your books off the table and storming out of the library, angry and embarrassed. You know that Hermione will be frowning after you, that she won’t let you not talk about it later tonight. You shake your head and walk towards the 8th year dorms.

There are so few of you this year that you have your own dormitory. It had been awkward to start, sharing a room with girls who you had fought with. Fought against. The boys had been worse. You’d had to listen to Ron complain for weeks about Blaise Zabini. Weeks. Although now you thought about it, Ron didn’t seem that pissed off anymore. And Blaise was more often than not seen in the 8th year common room playing chess with him. You arrive at the portrait that leads to the dorm and sigh. The man in the portrait smiles down at you and you try to smile back. You mutter the password and the portrait swings open, a low murmur of voices washing over you, punctuated by the occasional loud, barking laugh. You walk into the common room and stop, wishing that you could just turn around. You totally could, except that Harry has seen you.

“Y/N!” He calls, beckoning you over. You suppress a sigh and amble over, slumping down in a huge armchair. “What’s up? Where have you been?” Harry asks, putting down the cards he was holding, clearly concerned.

“I was in the library…” you mumble and Ron looks up from the game he is playing with Harry.

“Oh, did you see Hermione and Draco? I think they said they were going down there…” His voice is light and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Yes. They were there…” you grumble, looking down at your nails, missing the look that Harry gives Ron.

“So… do you want to join in the game?” Ron asks almost too brightly, clearly trying to distract you.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you snap your head up and glare at Ron, angry at him for not stopping Malfoy from becoming part of your friendship group.

“Not really… I mean, Draco can be a bit of an arse, but he’s actually an alright guy. And if it means that I don’t have to go to the library with Hermione than I’m all for it.” Ron sighs, having had this argument with you a hundred times before. You huff and sink further into the chair, still glaring at the boys.

“But what if he’s trying to get with her? What if she decides she wants him more than you?” You moan, knowing that you’re sounding ridiculous, but not really caring.

“Yeah, right,” Ron laughs, “not bloody likely.” Ron takes a card and goes back to playing his game.

“Y/N… are you ok?” Harry frowns as he picks up his cards, not taking his eyes off of you.

“Yes… no… whatever. I’m going to bed,” you stand up, flinging your bag over your shoulder, stalking towards your bedroom, ignoring the looks you get from the other 8th years.

*****

Hermione comes into your room a little while later, her arms full of books, a soft look on her face. You try to frown at her, but you find you don’t have the energy to be angry at her. She dumps her books on her bed and comes to sit at the end of yours.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispers, clearly worried that she’s upset you. You sigh and lean back, ignoring the sting of tears in the corner of your eye. Hermione shuffles closer and wraps her arms around your legs, leaning her head on your knees. You look at her, feeling instantly calmer as she gazes at you.

“Fine…” you mutter and she gives you a small smile, “I don’t get how you can be friends with him. He was such a dick to us even before the war… and then he became a death eater!”

“Yes, but Y/N he’s not a bad person. He had a warped childhood with a crazy person for a dad. That’s why we testified for him at his trial. He’s so amazingly sorry for what he did…”

“And so you can just forgive him? And just like that he can be part of the group? He doesn’t even have to try?” You feel your voice getting higher and you remind yourself to breathe, to calm down.

“I don’t know Y/N… Maybe I just don’t see us as a small group? We’re all in this together… wasn’t that the point of the war?” Hermione’s voice is small and you suddenly feel guilty. She’s right. That was why you fought the war. You run your hand through your hair, and then stare into Hermione’s eyes, seeing the concern there.

“I know… I know you’re right. I just…I don’t see it…” you whisper back and Hermione unfurls her arms to wrap them around you. You hug her back, feeling miserable.

“Why don’t you try to talk to him a bit more? Get to know him?” Hermione says into your hair and you shrug, not really wanting to, but not wanting to make her feel worse than she is.

“Maybe…”

*****

Unfortunately an opportunity to talk to Draco Malfoy presents itself at the next potions lesson. Professor Slughorn looks around the room, looking pleased with himself. You want to punch him.

“You will be working with your assigned partner for the next three weeks to perfect your own batch of ‘Nerves of Steel’. All I’m going to give you is the list of ingredients. As pairs you will need to figure out how they are mixed, in what order, and for how long. At the end of the three weeks, the pair with the best potion will win a prize!” Slughorn smiles at everyone and you grimace. Three weeks working closely with Draco Malfoy. You groan and flop your head down on the desk in front of you. You hear a flutter of paper next to you and glance up to see Slughorn has placed a scroll next to your head.

“Y/N? Maybe we should look at the ingredients…” Draco drawls, his voice smooth and low. You sit up and frown at him, hating him for no reason and not caring. He’s a prick. You grab the scroll and look over the ingredients. You fling the scroll to Malfoy and get up, stalking to the supply cupboard.

You stare at the glass jars, the labels peeling and yellow, trying to read the writing that you’re pretty sure belongs to Snape. You hear footsteps at the door and you know before you turn around that it’s Malfoy. He comes and stands next to you, feeling solid and warm and you shake your head to get rid of the dizziness.

“I’m getting them…” you say, your voice less of a snap and more of a whisper.

“We can get them together…” Malfoy whispers back, his breath tickling your cheek. You turn your head to shout at him and then freeze. He’s standing close. Very close. You look up into his eyes, so close to them that you can see flecks of dark blue in the steely grey. His white-blonde hair falls over his forehead, dishevelled and looking like someone has run their hands through it. Your fingers twitch and you get the sudden urge to find out what it feels like. You stand in silence for a moment, his eyes not leaving yours. You’re afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. His eyes flicker down and you give yourself a mental shake. This is Malfoy. You sneer at him and take a step back, ignoring the click of the jars as you hit the shelf.

“We need wolves fangs… they’re behind you,” you snarl. A flicker of something – sadness? – washes over Malfoy's face and he pauses for a moment before nodding and turning to get the jar from the top shelf. You watch as his shirt rides up slightly, untucked and giving you a flash of milky white skin and black boxers. You remind yourself to breathe and turn to your shelf to get a bottle of mermaid tears.

You leave the cupboard and walk into the cool air of the classroom, happy to leave… whatever that was behind you.

*****

“You’re doing it wrong!” You wail as Malfoy crushes a beetle bean under his sharp blade. He frowns at you, his perfect features not looking any less perfect. Or whatever. Not perfect features. Damn Malfoy.

“What exactly am I doing wrong?” He asks, his voice dripping with disdain and you feel a flush of anger and heat. You roll your eyes and shove a book across the table towards him.

“We agreed that this was probably similar to a love potion or liquid luck…” Your voice feels too high in your throat and you clench your teeth together to stop from screaming. Malfoy looks at you, his face relaxed, emotionless. You try not to look at the way his jaw slants, strong and angular. Or the lines of his neck, curving under his collar. Or his lips, flicking up slightly at the corners even though you know he isn’t smiling.

“I don’t see what your point is Y/N…” he says, his voice steady and calm. You take a deep breath.

“Both of those recipes say to cut the bean… not crush it.” You growl, watching as the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Yeah, I know…” He puts his knife down and leans forward across the bench, leaning on his elbows, his hands on the book. The muscles in his forearms ripple slightly as he moves his hands across the passage you’re talking about, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, and you can’t stop your gaze from travelling along them, staring at the silky skin, pale and smooth. Malfoy stops talking and you snap your eyes to meet his, a deep heat flushing across your cheeks.

“Uh…” you stutter and Malfoy stands up, momentarily looking nervous.

“Hermione casts a concealment charm on it every morning… so that I don’t scare the younger years…” he mutters and you nod slightly. There’s an awkward silence and you look down at your hands, cursing yourself for staring at his arms. You hadn’t even noticed that the mark wasn’t there… you’d been too busy staring at his skin.

“Anyway… cutting…” you whisper and Malfoy relaxes.

“I know it says to cut, but the reason you’re supposed to cut them is to release the juice… and that’s better done with crushing…” Malfoy picks up his knife and gives it a little twirl in his hand before placing a new beetle bean on the cutting board and crushing it with the blade. You watch as the deep purple liquid oozes from the cracks and sigh, sitting back down as Malfoy smirks, squeezing the juice into his cauldron.

*****

Ernie Macmillan is an arsehole. You glare at him as he picks up the book that you were clearly looking at and starts skimming through the pages.

“Do you mind if I borrow this Y/N?” He smiles at you, a goofy, stupid smile and you blink. Ok, so maybe he’s not an arsehole. Maybe he’s just genuinely thick. You sigh and lean back, crossing your arms over your chest, not wanting to argue, but really wanting to finish reading the book. “Thanks!” Ernie grins at you and walks back to his table. You glower after him and then sigh, turning back to your scroll.

You finish as much as you can without the book and then sit back in your chair, annoyed with Ernie and with yourself for not standing up to him. You glance over at Ernie to see if he’s finished with the book and see Malfoy, long and lean, bent over, whispering low to Ernie. You ignore the curve of his trousers over his rounded bum, his thighs seemingly thick underneath the black material and focus on Ernie, looking slightly worried, in a blank sort of way. You frown and look away, as Malfoy points to you, his eyes full of fire. You stare at your scroll, furiously trying to look like you’re busy and not spying on them. You’re so busy looking at your work that you don’t notice Ernie walking up to you.

“Er… Y/N…” Ernie grumbles and you turn to look at him, the large book in his hands, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realise that you were using this book…” He places the book down in front of you and scuttles off, leaving you completely speechless.

You look around the library until your eyes find him, leaning against a chair, laughing down at something that Harry has said, his eyes shining, his face radiant. You look at his long lines, his broad shoulders, still all angles, but broader, stronger angles than he had before the war. He glances over at you and your eyes connect, sending a shiver of excitement through you.

You blink at yourself, reminding yourself that this is MALFOY and there is no way that anything is going to happen because you find him morally repugnant. You open the book that Ernie had returned and glance back at Malfoy, heat rising in your cheeks as you see that he’s still watching you.

*****

“Um… I think maybe if we do it this way…” you mumble, take the pipette out of Malfoy’s hand and pouring the liquid into a small metal spoon instead. Malfoy looks down at you and you focus on making sure your hands don’t shake. You hear a little clink as the glass touches the spoon and then Malfoy wraps his long fingers around your hands, holding them steady, his arms wrapped around you.

His fingers are warm and smooth and you hold your breath as you pour the liquid together, Malfoy’s breath tickling the top of your head. You keep your eyes on the liquid. You absolutely do not think about his hard chest pressed against your back, the solid weight of him on you, his fingers strong and secure on yours.

You stop pouring and tip the spoonful into Malfoy’s cauldron. You stand for a moment, Malfoy surrounding you, your heart beating so hard you can feel it in your fingertips. Your mouth is dry and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. You take a deep breath and smell soap and vanilla and something warmer that you guess is just Malfoy. You give a small cough and Malfoy jumps back, a slightly blush playing at the edge of his cheeks.

“Sorry…” He mumbles, his voice thick. His eyes are dark, filled with passion and your legs go numb. You nod and turn away to look at your notes, your stomach fluttering, your head spinning. You avoid touching him for the rest of the lesson.

*****

“Y/N!” Hermione calls across the common room. She’s sitting with the boys, the two of them on the floor, her in one of the two large red and green striped armchairs with high backs. The other armchair is facing away from you and you say a silent thank you for the seat. The three of them are surrounded by scrolls and ink and quills. Harry’s hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles, his fingers covered in ink, with a large streak across his cheek. Ron’s shirt is almost completely undone, his tie lying next to him, a quill in his mouth as he frowns at the scroll in his lap. You laugh and walk over, chucking your bag over the back of the chair.

“Oomph…” a loud noise comes from the chair and you take a step forward to see Draco sat in it, your bag in his lap.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” You scramble to take the bag off of his lap but he holds out a hand, shaking his head slightly and taking big gasps of breath. He holds onto your bag, bending forward over it, his hair flopping forwards with him revealing the soft baby hairs as the base of his head.

“It’s ok…” Draco pants out, sliding off of the chair and onto the floor, taking your bag with him, “It’s your chair… you sit.” He points at the chair with one long finger and you gingerly sit in it, feeling the warmth that he’s left behind. You sink into it a little further, smelling soap and vanilla and warm Draco and the corners of your mouth twitch into a smile.

“I really am sorry…” you mutter to Draco and he smiles at you, placing your bag next to your feet, his smile lighting up his face, his grey eyes dancing.

“Honestly, don’t worry about it. Hermione’s punch was worse and she’s never apologised for that,” he looks over at Hermione with a wicked grin and she rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m not apologising for you being a massive dick…” she frowns and Draco sticks his tongue out at her. She sighs and then laughs a little before leaning over to look at Ron’s work over his shoulder. Draco looks back at you and you feel your heart skip slightly. You stare at him, your eyes connected, for a moment before looking away quickly.

“So… uh… what are you doing?” you mumble into your lap. You glance back at Draco to see him drag long fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

“These two haven’t quite figured out how to make ‘Nerves of Steel’ and they’re trying to plug me and Hermione for information,” Draco laughs. His laugh is deep and rumbly and makes his whole body move. You watch as his shoulders jiggle. He looks over at Harry who is glaring at him.

“Yeah, well… some of us spend more time doing other things than focusing on potions…” Harry raises an eyebrow and you grin at him. You wish you didn’t know what he was talking about, but you’d accidentally walked in on him and Ginny the other day. Suffice to say it wasn’t something you ever wanted to look at ever again.

“Can I point out that I’ve completed mine…?” Hermione whispers, running her hands lovingly through Ron’s hair. You feel an ache in your chest looking at them. You would love to have that. Your eyes slide over to Draco and see him looking at you, his features soft. You cough and look back at Hermione.

“No, you can’t point that out…” Harry complains, “It doesn’t help my point…” He grabs one of his scrolls and stares at it, running his hand through his hair, making it stand up even further. You look around the common room. The Patil sisters are sitting with Daphne Greengrass, the only female Slytherin to return, laughing about something. Dean and Seamus have transfigured a foosball table and are playing with Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein. Neville and Hannah Abbott and sitting in the corner, Hannah on Neville’s lap whilst reading something. Everyone is mixed together and you suddenly feel like crying, your throat tightening, your eyes stinging.

“Hey… Y/N…?” Draco’s voice startles you and you spin your head to look at him. His brow is creased in concern and his hand is resting on your foot. You feel a flush of pleasure at the heat of it. “Are you ok?” he asks, his smooth, deep voice running through you.

“Yeah… I’m fine…” you look around the room again, feeling deliriously happy and safe, feeling like part of a big group, part of a family, “I’m good.”

*****

Slughorn stirs your potion, looking at the colour and consistency, before taking a large sniff. You stand next to Draco, his fingers brushing your shoulder as he crosses his arm across his broad chest. You rest your hand on the desk, trying not to fidget. Draco uncrosses his arm and gives your side a little reassuring squeeze.

Slughorn turns to the two of you, a large grin across his face.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, Mr Malfoy. I have to say this is a very excellent batch! Most excellent!” His cheeks are flushed and you feel the excitement run through you. You had done it. Slughorn walks on to the next table and you turn to Draco, smiling uncontrollably.

“We did it!” you squeal, jumping a little and wrapping your arms around Draco’s neck. You feel his arms snake around you and your heart starts to beat harder. You can feel his heartbeat through your shirt and your head goes fuzzy. You take a deep breath, soap and vanilla and Draco warmth, and let go, sliding back to the floor. Draco’s arm stay on your side, and your mind starts to whir. You can hear the blood in your ears and you are suddenly very aware of your breathing.

“Y/N…” Draco croaks.

“Draco…?” you whisper back.

“And I think we have a winner!” Slughorn booms and you and Draco jump apart. You whole body feels overly sensitive, and you blink as Slughorn points to the two of you. You nod and smile, not listening to what he’s saying. You glance over to Draco, seeing him shake Slughorn’s hand and your heart skips. He turns to you and gives you a small wink and your whole body shakes with desire.

Oh shit.

*****

“Hey…” Draco’s deep voice comes from behind you, sending shivers through you. You turn and look at him, his eyes sparkling, his smile wide, his hair falling over his forehead.

“Hey…” You whisper.

“You ran out of class before Slughorn could give us our prize…” Draco frowns slightly and you nod.

“I just… uh… I needed some air…” you point at the closed window and Draco looks at it.

“I see… do you want to know what the prize is?” Draco turns to you again, his eyes piercing into you. Your mouth goes dry and you nod slightly. “We get to keep a vial of the potion…”

“Oh…” you say, surprised. You hold out your hand and Draco shakes his head.

“Sorry, it’s all gone. I drank it…” he takes a step closer and you feel your breath leaving you.

“Why?” you stutter.

“I needed nerves of steel…” Draco moves closer again, so that your bodies are almost flush against each other, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Why?” you breathe.

“So I could do this,” he murmurs before taking your mouth with his. His hands run through your hair, holding your face against his as his soft lips press against yours. You wrap your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling want and need rush through you. His tongue slips between your lips and you open your mouth to him, stroking along his tongue with yours. He moans into your mouth and you press yourself closer, needing more of him. His tongue plays in your mouth, exploring every centimetre. You taste mint and vanilla and the heat of him and it reminds you of his smell and your knees go weak. He moves one hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You move one hand, your arm slinging around his neck and you stand together, for what seems like hours.

You finally pull away, gasping for air and you look into his eyes, grey and warm and full of love. His lips are pink and swollen from kissing you and his cheeks are flushed. He coughs slightly and you grin and press yourself closer to him.

“You stole my prize.” You whisper, needing to keep the closeness you have.

“I needed it.” He looks very serious and you can’t help but reach up and press another soft kiss to his lips.

“What if I need it?” you murmur against his lips.

“What for?” he murmurs back, the vibrations running through you.

“I don’t know… kissing you?” You nuzzle your nose against his.

“You don’t need nerves of steel.” He holds you tighter, pressing light kisses to your lips, your nose, your eyelids.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“And why’s that?” you pull back slightly and look at him.

“Because you have me,” he smiles.

“For how long?” you frown.

“Forever,” he says before bending his head to yours and showing you.


End file.
